


To Part the Glories of this Happy Day

by jin_fenghuang



Category: Deep Space 9, Star Trek, ds9 - Fandom
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Episode: The Die is Cast, Established Relationship, Garak POV, M/M, episode AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 00:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3917206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jin_fenghuang/pseuds/jin_fenghuang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Bashir decided to come along in 'The Die is Cast' ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

***

"Doctor, I really don't think this is a wise idea."

"Oh, _you_ think?" Bashir paced his quarters, the small vibrations that travelled through the carpeted floor with each step emphasizing his agitation.

He stopped in the middle of the tiny room, pointing his finger at Garak.

"And what exactly were you thinking when you blew up your shop? You could have been killed!"

Garak had to smile at that. Now would probably not be the best moment to mention just how much he had enjoyed his little bonfire. Even if his dear doctor was at his most adorable when infuriated.

Bashir came to stand right in front of Garak, glaring down at him.

"You are not going after Tain alone."

Garak felt the scales on his back ripple pleasantly. If only he had the time to take Julian up on that heated glare. But Odo and he were supposed to leave within the hour, and no matter how tempting the idea of a more intimate goodbye was, there simply wasn't the time.

"My dear –" Being alone in a room with Julian was always overwhelming. Humans must come from desolate frozen wasteland of a planet, Garak decided, to burn so bright that he could feel their body heat even through the thick fabric of the Starfleet uniform. He felt himself drawn to this particular human like the proverbial moth.

"No, Elim. I nearly lost you twice already!" Bashir interjected and grabbed Garak's face between his hands, those soft skinned human hands fever-hot on his scales, kissing him with angry intensity.

"Besides," Bashir's hands slid down Garak's neck-ridges, making him shiver. He gave Garak's shoulders a fond squeeze. "It's not as if you have a choice. I've already cleared it with Sisko. Strangely enough, he was more than happy to have me go along. For some reason, he doesn't like you being alone in a Federation ship while Odo regenerates."

"Should I be offended that Commander Sisko trusts me so little?" Garak couldn't resist the temptation to pull Julian just a little closer. When had he let the human get so close?

Bashir snorted at that and Garak could feel the vibrations of Julian's suppressed laughter echo through his tunic. It tickled.

"My dear, Tain is an old man –" Garak continued, covering Julian's incandescent hands with his own, much colder ones, squeezing them gently. The exotic heat seeped through his scales and it took all his will power to focus, to not give in and back the good doctor against the nearest wall and –

"He called me brash." Bashir had the audacity to smirk at that. "I thought he rather liked me."

"You say that as if that is a good thing," Garak gently admonished, but privately he was pleased that Bashir had managed to impress Tain.

"But what I was saying, Julian, is that Tain's getting a bit peculiar with age. He probably just went vole hunting with friends and forgot to tell Mila. I'm sure that's all there is to it. There really is no need for you –"

"I'm coming with you and that is final." Bashir bit out in a tone that broke no argument. He held Garak's gaze, and Garak flicked his tongue against his teeth, drawing in the scent of Bashir's alien emotions. The concern and affection this human had for him were at times unnervingly infuriating. Not that he could fault his beloved doctor for them, he was after all merely human, and no human –especially not one surrounded by his own kind– could even begin to understand what exile meant to a Cardassian.

And no matter how much he'd come to rely on Julian, had come to care for him, there were moments when the good doctor was truly alien to him.

How could he make Julian understand that his most coveted human idea of individuality was a nightmare to him, that it was a punishment worse than death to be separated from kin and state? That he would do almost anything to be able to go home?

If Tain died without forgiving him, without taking him back –Garak shuddered at the thought– then he would truly have little left to live for.


	2. Chapter 2

***

Chapter One

The case with the tools of his trade heavy in his hand Garak waited for the metal door to the interrogation room to swish open. When it did, he breathed in through slightly parted lips, revelling in air that tasted rich with nostalgia for the life he'd once led. Sweat, iron, anxiety soon to turn to fear and that particular chemical compound that was part of the disinfectant the cleaning crews used.

Garak straightened his back, feeling the cold, searing-bright years of his exile melt away. He was back at his rightful place as Tain's second in command, defending the state at his father's side. It was exhilarating.

He closed his eyes and flicked his tongue against his teeth, tasting the air to its fullest. It was a heady combination that made his chufa itch with anticipation.

Even the sounds were right, the click of his shoes against the sheet-metal floor, the soft hum of the ships ventilation and life support. Scent and sound swirled together to an all familiar, almost forgotten cacophony and Garak just stood for a moment, letting it flood his senses like the warm, orange Cardassian sun. It was like greeting an old friend, like finally coming home.

Garak took in the room. It was a standard interrogation and short-term holding unit. Empty but for a bed, a small table set against the wall and a chair next to the door, a discreet drain circled the wall, necessary for the more _difficult_ assignments.

It was the life he'd yearned for during his long cold and glaringly bright years in exile, the life that he wanted back so much that it could almost make him forget the price.

His dear doctor was sitting on the bed, arms crossed in front of his chest, chin set defiantly.

"So, what's the plan?"

Garak didn't even need to see it in the set of Julian's jaw, to gauge the good doctor's bravado. He could smell the man's nervousness, his uncertainty with a quick flick of his tongue, dark, thick coils of emotion ready to be used.

Garak smiled pleasantly, reassuringly at Bashir.

He'd known the doctor's charming Federation naïveté would prove to be most useful. He wouldn't really enjoy using force to interrogate Julian, and thanks to the doctor's amusingly insistent fascination with anything espionage related he might not even have to.

"The plan, my dear –" Garak started, and stopped mid-sentence. That humming hadn't been there just a second ago, but now it filled the room, undeniable and insistent, just at the edge of his hearing.

Garak didn't bother to look for the source; he'd recognize the sound this particular recording device made anywhere.

But what puzzled him was that a hidden recording device served no interrogation purposes, did not intimidate or reassure the prisoner. Then he cursed himself for a fool. Tain wasn't watching Bashir.

Garak swallowed around the implications of that fact, face composed into a carefully pleasant mask. Tain was watching him.

Bashir too had frozen in place, his eyes fixed onto the opposite wall in such a laughable imitation of nonchalance, that Garak didn't need to be Betazoid for to know that he was faking it. If he'd been a vole, Garak was sure, Bashir would have turned his ears toward the sound.

Bashir should not even be able to hear that, Garak tasted the air, Bashir's tangible surprise confirming his suspicion. A rather interesting fact he filed away for later use.

"The plan, my dear," Garak went on after barely a pause, voice smooth as silk. "Is for you to answer a few simple questions. Nothing more than that."

Garak put the case he'd been carrying on the table, not opening it yet.

"A few _simple_ questions?" Bashir glared at him and Garak could see the wheels in Julian's head starting to spin. "To put _people's_ mind at ease, I suppose?"

"Why yes, Doctor." Garak flashed him a brilliant smile. "Will you assist me in that?

The humming filled his senses, burning like an itch that he was unable to scratch. The sloppy choice of both placement and device puzzled him. Did Tain want him to know he was watching him or was this to be expected Romulan incompetence?

Garak decided, that in the end it didn’t matter. One way or another, Tain didn't trust him. But trust was earned, wasn't it?

He hid his frown by bending over the case, switching it open only to close it again a second later. No, not yet.

Garak clenched his jaw. Had three years in exile dulled his intellect and senses? Of course Tain didn't trust him; he'd not given him any reason to. And it wasn't as if he'd cost Cardassia the Occupation – well, not cost as such, he relented, that was not giving Dukat nearly enough credit, but he'd had enough of a hand in that for Tain to hold a most unreasonable grudge.

Really, what was a planet or two between family?

His eyes flicked over to where Bashir was sitting on the bed. He couldn't have killed Tain back then no more than he could –

Garak pulled the chair over to the bed and sat down neatly, adjusting his trousers with a quick tug at the knees.

"Now, shall we begin, my dear?"


End file.
